Ursa Theodorus
by SombraAlma
Summary: Scene revision of sorts: Sawyer does walk Kate home in The Brig.


Title: Ursa Theodorus  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Don't own them; just borrowing.  
Summary: Scene revision of sorts: Sawyer _does_ walk Kate home in The Brig. _The flirty smirk she's giving him is, he's sure, intended to make him believe that this is indeed not personal, but he can't help it. It is. With her, it always is._

-----

"It's five tents; I think I'll make it."

The flirty smirk she's giving him is, he's sure, intended to make him believe that this is indeed _not personal_, but he can't help it. It is. With her, it always is.

But hey, he can turn on the insincere charm with the best of them, and he's not about to be one-upped tonight. So he pulls his shirt back over his head and dimple-grins her right back. "Sure? I gotta pee anyway." (He doesn't really, but it sounds good – well, sounds better in his head before he says it, at least.)

She crinkles her nose and shakes her head. "That's _so_ romantic." At least it made her laugh. She crawls forward on the sand and kisses him and though she lets her lips linger and he's about to open his mouth for more of her taste, she's already pulling away.

But he'll be damned if this is goodnight.

He hauls himself to his feet and ducks out of the tent with her, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to quell the temptation to rest his hand at the small of her back. She looks back at him quizzically, and he shrugs. Another smirk, but this one's tinted with affection and nostalgia. "My momma'd have paddled me if she knew I was lettin' a lady walk home in the dark alone."

He'd have taken a swing at anyone else who would have snorted in quiet laughter at a memory of his momma, but he lets it go when she does it this time (his momma'd also have paddled him if he'd ever hit a lady, come to think of it). Kate's speaking again, her voice laced with the sarcastic amusement she'd held in the tent. "So now you're the perfect Southern gentleman? And I'm a lady?"

"Might've been wrong about the lady part, _Sassafrass_." His voice is darker now, and he kicks at the sand as they walk; how does she get to have this power over him, to make him feel like shit and still want to follow her wherever the hell she goes? And she calls _him_ the conman.

(Somewhere, Karma's laughin' her sweet ass off right about now. And he don't even believe in karma.)

He's distracted from his brooding when she changes course, walking towards the shoreline rather than approaching her tent. He follows her, a few steps behind, watching as she stops at the water's edge and curls her bare toes in the damp sand.

The beach is essentially deserted and quiet, everyone else long since sleeping in their own tents. He closes his eyes, listening to sounds that have become as familiar as his own breath in the past months: waves gently rolling into the shore, breeze rustling the trees in the jungle behind them. It actually sounds _peaceful_, laughable as the concept is, here. He can feel the tension in his shoulders relaxing as they stand there, silently, together.

Finally, he opens his eyes, looking up. It's a clear night, cloudless and dark, the stars are brilliant, and suddenly he remembers. "Ursa Theodorus."

She turns to look at him, surprised, like she hadn't realized he's still there. "What?"

He merely nods to the heavens. "Ursa Theodorus. The teddy bear." He gestures with his hand. "Which one you think it is?"

Even in the darkness, he can see the recognition in her eyes. He almost regrets the mention as soon as he says it; the time hadn't been their best of moments, to say the least. She swings her gaze back to the sky, but she's silent for so long he's afraid she's angry at the reminder, or she's forgotten he even spoke. Then, "That one." She points, and while he can't pick out a constellation among the millions of stars to save his life, he nods, grateful.

"Well." He clears his throat, a bit roughly. "Next time I'm havin' a man to man with lil' Bobby, I'll hafta see if you're right."

Silence falls again, but it's comfortable rather than tense, this time. And now he does allow himself to rest his hand at her waist, lightly, something neither would do in the light, on the busy beach, without the stars and the water lapping at their feet.

He's not sure how long they've stood there when she turns to him again. Her expression is serious, her face void of the sarcasm and laughter it'd held earlier. "I ain't usin' you, James."

His eyebrows raise slightly; he's surprised by both her words and her use of his own usual manner of speech. "What's that, Freckles?" His voice is barely a whisper, as if her sudden seriousness is something fragile.

"I'm not using you." A beat, then she swallows, resolute. "You said all I have to do is ask."

He holds his breath, nods. His carefully honed instinct tells him this isn't just another con.

"I'm asking, James."

He studies her for several moments more then turns, walking with her back towards her tent.

She holds the flap open for him, then lets it fall closed behind them.

_fin_


End file.
